Lady Black
by Lady Domino
Summary: When he discovers Harry Potter is a Horcrux Voldemort attempts to convince the world that Harry is Bellatrix's son. Unfortunately things do not go as he planned, and he is forced to choose between his favourite Deatheater and his enemy. Complete
1. The first morning

disclaimer - not mine

My first story for ages! This is just a little intro chapter, and there should be more pretty soon. It's AU book 6 onwards which means everything up to book 6 has happened. I decided to make Bellatrix really quite sensual because I imagine that she is and that's one of the reasons she likes the cruciatus curse so much. Please review and let me know what you think so far!

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The first morning

Bellatrix Black woke up slowly and luxuriantly. She loved this feeling; the cool silk sheets beneath her, the rich red curtains tumbling around her slowly shimmering into focus. Dilly was just scuttling out of the room. Bellatrix twitched her hair in annoyance. To be woken by a house elf! It was beyond frustrating. Beside her bed steamed a glass of the raspberry tisane she adored, and she lifted herself up on the plumped cushions and reached for it. As the warm liquid slid down her throat she considered the day ahead.

Her Lord had said that he wouldn't need his most faithful Deatheaters for the next week or so. No raids, no attacks, just the usual routine of plotting, planning, waiting-and-seeing. And Yaxley had proposed a get together this evening, for a spot of muggle hunting. She sighed and leaned back into the plump cushions, feeling the silk nightdress sliding under her thin shoulder blades. That would be a fun; the thrill of the chase, the blood of the hunt, the way her heart would race, the delicious feeling her own dark spells spread through her. Perhaps she'd take her son this time… he never seemed to show an interest in blood sports though. Her face wrinkled a little. How had she allowed this to continue? She'd had him for almost all of fifteen years now, but still he seemed so very different to her. Still, and she let the frown slip away, he was her son and nothing changed that. She lifted her eyes to the picture on her wall opposite the bed. It was taken before she'd aged, before she'd spent that terrible year in Azkaban, before her Lord had inexplicably disappeared. She was young then, and very beautiful, with her dark hair long and gleaming. In her arms sat the fat little baby, chubby and smiling, his black hair mirroring her own. She smiled back as the baby in the photo lifted his little paw and waved at her.

It had been hell, that year apart. Just after her Lord had vanished (and he hadn't returned for thirteen years!) she had gone looking for him. She'd left her son at home and gone to the Longbottoms with the Crouch boy, and tortured them for information. Bellatrix squirmed a little, remembering her hysterical panic. _'Where is he? Tell me where he is! Where? Where? Tell me!'_ She'd not been concentrating and had let it go too far too fast. She hadn't meant to turn them insane before they could tell her anything, and then someone had raised the alarm and she'd been sent to Azkaban. _'My son? What about him! Where is he? Is he safe?' _The Crouch boy didn't last long, but she was still there a year later, when the storm had come and torn Azkaban open. She'd fled, and spent weeks hunting for her baby. He had been found by the Ministry when they raided her house and Dumbledore, cursed Dumbledore, fiddling Dumbledore had given him to a family of purebloods. Her face twisted. If you could call the Weasleys purebloods. She'd whisked him away at the first opportunity and taken him home, but they'd already allowed him to be damaged.

A knock at the door made her glance up and she placed the tisane back on the tray on the bedside table.

"Come in." The door opened and a boy of about sixteen walked in, his black hair still uncombed after his sleep.

"Good morning mother." She was instantly alert, wary to his tone.

"Is something wrong? You dreamt again?" He sighed and threw himself carelessly on the bed at her side.

"I can't help it mother. I try so hard not to, as you told me, but it won't stop." She reached down and stroked the strange scar on his forehead. They'd let that happen, the Weasleys. Somehow.

"We shall practice some more occlumency today then." He nodded obediently.

"Yes mother. Would you like me to write and apologise to the Dark Lord again? I do not mean to intrude on his dreams." _And yet somehow you manage it so effortlessly_, Bellatrix thought ruefully. It confused her, this ability of her son's, and she didn't like it. He was not a powerful occlumens at all, in fact quite the contrary. And yet somehow when it came to the Dark Lord the mental barriers just melted and their minds meshed. Her Lord had made several pointed comments about curbing this ability, and she tried to help her son. Deep down she suspected he didn't truly want to relinquish this connection to her Lord and it made her angry and jealous that he should be so favoured with such intimacy. But there was nothing to be gained with bitterness, so she tried (perhaps a little harder than she might have done otherwise) to curb his extraordinary power.

He reached up and entwined his fingers in her long hair thoughtfully.

"You slept well, mother?"

"Deeply," she replied. "My favourite type of sleep." He smiled.

"Then Severus came up trumps after all!" She laughed.

"I admit it! He can make a fair sleeping potion." She paused and then said tentatively, "Are you doing anything this evening?" He yawned.

"No. Why?"

"We're going hunting… if you'd like to come?" A conflicted expression crossed his face.

"Mother, you know how I feel about that sort of thing."

"Just give it a try," Bellatrix wheedled. "You don't know what it's like… to use the cruciatus spell for real. Not in practice like when I was training you but for real, with the wind whirling and your blood dancing." He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Mother, you know how I hate to disappoint you…"

"Then don't!" she interrupted. "Harry, you are my son. You can't avoid this destiny all your life." She reached down and turned his face up to her so that their eyes met. Deep blue bore into the dazzling green. "You are of the noble house of Black and you are a pureblood. We have a duty to our own kind to cull the filthy muggles." She laughed. "It's not too bad. You know they don't feel pain like we do."

"They still scream," he protested.

"An animal screams when hurt," Bellatrix countered. She held his gaze a little longer then sighed and released him. "Sometimes I do not think you are my own son, Harry!" He jerked as if slapped, then reached up and wound his arms around her.

"Don't say that mother. I'll come if you really want. I will try, I promise I will." She smiled, placated.

"Good boy." Idly she reached down and resumed stroking his hair off his forehead, her fingers sliding across that strange scar. _'Sometimes I do not think you are my own son?' _It was only words to frighten him. She knew, from her toes to her fingertips, that Harry James Black was wholly and completely hers.


	2. A night of darkness

Disclaimer – not mine.

Chapter 2! Thank you very much to the people who've already reviewed chapter 1 (Kaluki and The Wolf At Bay), this one's for you two. If anyone's reading this and thinking 'oh yeah I didn't review chapter one' please do go back and do that. And review this chapter as well. It's just such a nice thing to do.

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A night of darkness

The wind carried the flickering sparks from the bonfire towards Bellatrix as she walked across the field. Around its glowing warmth stood four other figures, the light playing across their faces, their eyes gleaming like animals'. Behind her Harry walked slightly sulkily. He hadn't wanted to come but she'd held him to his word. At least he was smartly turned out, in a deep blue cloak which rippled in the night breeze and dark clothes. She winced as the field mud clutched at her boots and sucked at the heels. The house elves would have their work cut out in the morning, cleaning their mistresses' favourite stilettos.

One of the figures at the bonfire gave a shout of recognition.

"Bellatrix! You came after all!" She laughed back, feeling the night air catch in her throat.

"Lucius! But of course! And see, Harry has come to play as well." A slender figure detached itself from the bonfire's glow and slunk towards them through the dark.

"Black! Come to see how the adults play?" Draco Malfoy sneered. Bellatrix noted how Harry's shoulders slid back and he adopted a defensive stance.

"Draco," he said carefully. "I was not aware you were here. You're sure it's not past your bedtime?" Malfoy snorted.

"Weak, cousin. Surely you can manage better than that?" Harry slipped forwards until they were face to face.

"One of these days I am going to lose my patience with you, _cousin_," he hissed. Malfoy laughed.

"And how I tremble! However, do ensure that I am unarmed that day, cousin. Otherwise I fear it will go extremely badly for you."

Bellatrix left them growling threats at each other and moved into the warmth of the fire. There were two other Deatheaters – Yaxley, who had organised the evening, and his friend Rudolphus Lestrange. She didn't know what it was about Rudolphus, but somehow he always felt slightly closer than he should have to her. He glanced up with a genuine smile.

"Bella. Stunning as always, I see." She purred inside, savouring the compliment.

"Rudolphus. Looking forward to some fun?" He smiled.

"Most certainly. Well now that you are both here, we can start. We're not waiting for anyone else are we, Yaxley?" Yaxley shook his head, and waited a second as Lucius and Draco Malfoy returned to the firelight. Harry skulked somewhat crossly in the shadows, until Bellatrix cleared her throat pointedly and he slouched into the circle of warmth.

"We are currently in Devon, my friends, on the outskirts of an 'idyllic haven of calm'," Yaxley said. "A haven unremarkable except in that not a single witch or wizard inhabits it."

"Little does this peaceful village know," Rudolphus continued gleefully, "that it is about to be witness to an almighty tragedy."

"How shall we do this?" Bellatrix purred. "A house each? A road?" She showed her teeth. "Shall we destroy every last one of them?"

"Since its Harry's first night out in a very long time, shall we let him choose?" Lucius suggested, a little maliciously. Harry glanced up, vaguely disconcerted. Bellatrix found her heart hammering, the way it always did when the other Deatheaters submitted him to any kind of test. She didn't know why, and she'd certainly never admit it, but she realised that she was just waiting for him to fail.

"Come on, Black," Draco cajoled. "How shall we do this then?" Harry sighed.

"Split into groups of two. Cut the lines and set fire to as many of the houses as you wish. Pick them off as they run in the street. Then sweep the houses with searcher spells. Kill the remainder." Bellatrix breathed. It was a beautiful plan, it thrilled her to her bones and it was delightfully brutal.

"Groups of two?" Draco sneered. "So you can stay with your Mummy?"

"No, I'll go with you, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "And don't you dare get in my way."

"Fine with me," Draco countered.

"Fine."

"Fine then!" Bellatrix smiled at them. Always like two dogs circling each other, looking for weakness, nipping at the other's ankles. She knew that Draco didn't understand Harry fully and that aggravated him. And as for Harry? She believed he was jealous. Jealous of the glowing Malfoy boy whose father rode so high in the Dark Lord's favour whilst her Lord took care to avoid contact with her son. Jealous of Malfoy's grace and easy tongue. It saddened her to think that her son felt inferior. She doubted he knew, but he was not only braver than Draco, but also capable of far greater feeling. Draco was cold, callous, selfish. A good Deatheater, but somewhat lacking as a human being. She knew who she'd rather have as a son.

Still she did wish he'd learn to put this silly squeamishness behind him. She'd practically had to bully him to get him out tonight. Maybe this time he'd get a taste for it.

"What?" She glanced up as Rudolphus said something.

"I said, shall we go together?" he repeated. For some reason a little smile struggled to force itself onto her lips. Fighting to control herself, she nodded.

"Come Lucius," Yaxley called. "We'll take the houses on the other side of the square. We'll also do the phone lines. Bella, you and Rudolphus take the houses this side. And Harry and Draco, you've got the ones on the hill. Shall we, friends?" Together they all raised their wands and drew the Deatheater mask onto their faces. Bellatrix peered at Harry through the slits. His mask was oddly expressionless, just the lightning bolt scar clearly drawn onto the universal face of greek tragedy. Draco's mask was strangely Egyptian, with slits for eyes outlined in black kohl, drawn down in tear tracks. Rudolphus' mask was… well despite their masks it made her feel like he was looking at her naked. What was it about him that bothered her so much? She didn't know, but she did know that she liked it when he offered her his arm and they set off together.

"Meet me back at the house by morning!" she called to Harry. He might have given a non-committed grunt, but she wasn't sure. It didn't matter anyway, because her blood was already racing.

As they left the field via a path which turned into a small street, her breath came faster and faster. They stepped onto the small main street. It wasn't so much a village as a small hamlet, about twenty houses in all, surrounding a small square with a fountain pluming in the middle of it. She paused at the fountain edge, admiring the sculpted horse with the fish tail, trailing her fingers in the silvery cold. Harry would be all right with Draco, she told herself. Malfoy had done this before, could take care of them both. And there were no wizards here. He'd be safe.

The moonlight smiled down on them, filling her with a fluttering. Rudolphus must have felt it too, because he suddenly turned to her and held out his hand.

"Shall we dance?" What was it about his voice? It sent such a strange feeling through her. She laughed and accepted his hand, and he twirled her about.

"The others…" she cried breathlessly, her feet dancing faster than they had for years.

"No screams yet," he replied, his words echoing in the deathly silence of the sleeping houses. "We'll know when they've started." His other hand slid around her waist and it was… magical. There was something about his touch, it felt like it belonged there. They were dancing so close, their bodies pressing together, the darkness watching on silently.

The first screams shattered the shadows like glass. They came from the hill, where Harry was. Bellatrix laughed. She didn't stop the dance, but raised her hand, with her wand in it and shouted breathlessly.

"Incendio!" A jet of flame shot from its tip, hitting the houses surrounding them, shattering windows, setting alight front gates and doors. A cacophony of screams arose from the house and Rudolphus answered with a throaty half laugh, half growl.

"Time to hunt!" he cried, throwing her away from him. She shrieked, dizzy with the violence, the thrill of the flames. Muggles were pouring out of their houses like ants. A man raced towards her.

"Lady, call the fire brigade!" he yelled. She pointed her wand, laughing still more at the excitement.

"_Crucio_!" He fell screaming, and now others were screaming too. Muggles raced about, trying to flee the flames. Rudolphus was on the fountain, straddling the horse and cackling madly as he picked off the muggles.

"_Avada Kadava_! And _Avada Kadava _to you too!"

The laugh died on Bellatrix's lips. She was transfixed by the sight of Rudolphus, by his power, his cruelty. It excited her beyond reason, so much so that she felt herself petrified, turned to stone. Dimly she grew aware of a tugging at her skirt; she turned and saw a small girl of about five, sooty tear stained faced turned upwards.

"Mummy! I can't find my mummy!" the girl wailed. A sudden feeling of something terrifyingly, ecstatically vicious rushed through Bellatrix, and she spun her wand around.

"_Crucio_!" Then again and again. She didn't kill them, she inflicted pain, standing in the middle of the square knocking them down like nine-pins. Again and again her wand spouted red, whilst green light answered from Rudolphus'. It was amazing; the world contained only her and Rudolphus, she was spinning or it was spinning and she was still. The flames were burning and people were screaming and she was insanely happy.

Rudolphus turned on the horse to face her.

"My lady!" he cried. "My dark lady! Tell me, will you marry me?" She laughed crazily, tasting blood in her mouth, seeing blood in her eyes, feeling it hammering through her veins.

"Ask me again tomorrow and I will know you mean it!" He slid from the horse and stood in front of her, the remaining snivelling muggles forgotten. Lifting his wand he drew away his mask, then clasped her hands.

"I do! I do mean it! Bellatrix I adore you! I have for years!" And it was strange but she'd known he had for years, had wanted him back. Why hadn't they acted? He grabbed her to him and kissed the cold lips of her mask. She lifted her wand, dragged the mask off and kissed him back hard. It was violent and lacking in elegance, his teeth tore her lip as he devoured her, and the blood flooded her mouth, his hands had left hers, were sliding over the exposed tops of her breasts…

And suddenly a blinding, demanding pain shot up her left arm and she was wrenched away from him, torn out of the night air. The world spun and the blood suddenly tasted sickening and she felt ill. With a bang she landed. It took only a second to realise where she was and who had summoned her. She fell on her knees and lowered her head.

"My lord!"

"Get up Bella!" He snarled, and she staggered to her feet confused. Voldemort looked furious, his face twisted with anger, his eyes burning a terrifying scarlet. Self-consciously she raised her hand and tried to wipe away the blood from her mouth. "Enjoy yourself?" Voldemort hissed. She shuddered, uncertain, afraid.

"My lord… I… I do not understand." She felt like crying. Voldemort took a step closer.

"You have my permission to go out hunting. I do not care. I allow it. But you do not have my permission to make a fool of yourself and risk everything!" She shook her head, ashamed. Tears welled in her eyes.

"My lord, I was just… I do not understand. There was no risk." Her voice faltered. He laughed coldly.

"To yourself no, my lady. Do you really think I would care if you endangered yourself through your own foolishness? I am talking about the boy who is _your son_." Her head snapped up as cold fear gripped her heart.

"Harry? What happened? Is he safe?" Voldemort spoke icily.

"Whilst you were enjoying yourself, woman, your son was attacked by an auror." Her heart nearly stopped. _No! I can't lose him!_

"Where is he?" she begged.

"He is safe," Voldemort said. "But I am unconvinced that you are a fit mother for him. Perhaps I should give him to your sister Narcissa?" Bellatrix whimpered.

"No! He had Draco with him! He should have been safe!" She lifted her eyes and quailed at his expression. Inching forwards she grasped the hem of his robe. "My lord, I will do better. I swear! Please, I beg you, don't take Harry away. I couldn't live without him." Voldemort leant down, unpried her hands and lifted her up.

"I shall let you keep him, today," he said quietly. "But you must _not _forget that he is the most important thing in your life. You must keep him safe, Bella. You must. Do not allow yourself to be distracted." She nodded, confused. Suddenly she thought she knew what he was talking about.

"Rudolphus?" she whispered. Voldemort laughed.

"Do not fool yourself, Bella. There is only room in your heart for one person. Let Rudolphus go, or Harry will suffer." _Harry will suffer._ Instinctive horror rose in her at the very thought. She bowed her head submissively.

"My lord I will do as you say. I am sorry. I shall not think of him again." He smiled faintly.

"Good. I know you did not fail intentionally. Leave me now, and return to your son." He waved and she felt herself moving without command, felt herself apparating at his whim. The world spun and suddenly she was home, back in her house, in the living room, her boots caked with mud and a catch in her throat which threatened to make her cry. Her son was sitting on one of the sofas as a house elf tended to a cut at his temple. He'd jumped at her arrival, and now she fell forward, towards him.

"Harry! You're hurt!"

"You're bleeding, mother," he whispered, and she grasped him in a hug.

"It doesn't matter. I'm so sorry. Oh my baby, I'm sorry." He squirmed a little.

"It was nothing. I just feel so stupid. Draco was in the house and I was at the gate and suddenly… I didn't even see the bastard." Bellatrix held him tighter. It wasn't nothing, it was the end of the world. He was hurt. He was hurt! And all because she'd been foolish and callous.

Did every mother feel this way? Like she'd die if anything happened to her baby? Like she'd been assigned to protect him?

She couldn't let him be hurt. It was like a command written deep in her bones.

There was no way in hell Bellatrix Black would let Harry be hurt again.


	3. Blue fabric and pins

A/N – chapter 3. Think we may be aiming for about 8-9 chapters in this so nearly halfway there. If anyone has any ideas of how's it going to add let me know – it'd be nice to see what you make of it so far. Don't forget to review when you reach the end.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter not mine.

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Blue fabric and pins

_Bellatrix Lestrange whirled around the massive chamber like a demon, __hurling spells left and right. Around her the aurors were winning, the Deatheaters falling one by one; a spell glanced off her shoulder and she stopped abruptly, spinning on her heel to face her cousin. Black laughed as she sent a spell towards him, parried, sent one back. She danced aside, loosed another. He cackled madly as the red light passed harmlessly to his left._

_"Come on, you can do better than that!" he called. And she hit him. Dead centre. Perfect kill._

_And someone screamed._

Bellatrix Black woke up with her heart hammering. The dream was new, and she didn't understand it. Her cousin Sirius had died years ago, unmourned, wasted away in Azkaban after killing his best friend and his wife. They'd never been close and none of the Black family had lamented his passing. An oddball with no loyalty or sense of his own history. Besides Sirius had never particularly liked her, and so she'd never seen any reason to like him. So it was odd. Bellatrix Black had certainly had no hand in Sirius' Black's death. And yet somehow she'd just dreamt in startling detail his murder.

And deep down she'd known that Harry was hurt.

Harry. Her Harry. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she threw off the covers, stood up and pulled on a silk dressing gown.

"Lumos!" she whispered, and her wand flared into life. The same wand she'd dreamt she'd killed her cousin with. Padding softly out of her room she crossed the corridor to Harry's door and hesitated there. The whole house was silent, the House Elves probably slumbering deeply in their attic, and not a sound came from Harry's room. Carefully she turned the handle of his door and peeped in. He was sound asleep, bless him, lying with his hair ruffled over his forehead and the blankets thrown casually over his shoulders. She was about to leave when he tossed uneasily and muttered in his sleep.

"Cedric…No. Cedric. Mum!"

Normally she'd have left him to it, but his voice was strange, frightened and hunted. The urgency with which he'd called the last word compelled her to swiftly cross the floor and kneel on his bed. She wrapped her arms around his narrow shoulders and held him to her.

"I'm here," she crooned. "I'm here, Harry." His eyes flew open and for a second he stared at her as if she was a monster. Bellatrix's heart stopped. The look of horror, of pure loathing in his eyes terrified her. Thankfully it dropped away in a second, to be replaced with sleepy confusion.

"Mother? What? I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?" Shaken, Bellatrix stroked his forehead and he winced as her fingers touched the baffling scar. It was hot under their cool tips.

"It's all right. You were talking. A nightmare?" He shrugged, squinting in the wandlight.

"I suppose. I can't really remember." Could he really not? she wondered. Instantly she chastised herself. Harry had no reason to lie to her! No reason… except that he had looked at her as if he truly hated her. _It was just the dream_, she told herself as she left him to go back to her own room. _His dream confused him, he didn't know what he was seeing. _Still, she had a hard time getting to sleep again that night.

In the morning Bellatrix clung to her tisane like a drowning man, and was only able to manage a weak smile when Harry entered. He looked pale and wan. She laughed a little.

"Bad night?"

"Look who's talking," he countered. She took another sip of the sweet liquid, savouring the feeling as the warmth slid down her throat.

"Retail therapy?" He pulled a face.

"Must we, mother?" She brightened a little.

"Yes! You could do with some new robes so we'll go to Madame Malkins, and I need some more gold from Gringrotts and then we'll see what else Diagon Alley has to offer." Harry perked up a little.

"Not Knockturn Alley then?" She sighed.

"No, you wimp. Just because you had one bad experience..."

"I'd say it was enough to be described as 'very bad'" he interrupted. She laughed, feeling the tired tension subdue a little.

"Not to Knockturn Alley. We'll go as we always do. Narcissa and her nephew Harry Black. Be ready in two hours." He nodded.

"Gotcha."

Narcissa was slimmer than Bellatrix, so she kept a few dresses for whenever she used polyjuice to disguise herself as her sister. That day she chose one of a soft shimmering green which fell in silky swathes off Narcissa's lean frame. The colour would have looked awful against Bellatrix's dark hair but suited her sister's blonde hair and pale blue eyes beautifully. As a known Deatheater Bellatrix could not be seen in public, but her son had escaped the notice of the Ministry thus far and the Aurors wouldn't be after him. The attack the previous night had been on an anonymous masked Deatheater. He would be safe as himself.

Harry went through the Floo-network first, pronouncing the destination very carefully. Bellatrix smiled tightly. He'd never truly trusted the network since his little adventure alone in Knockturn Alley at the age of twelve. She followed him to Diagon Alley, emerging from the green flames into the fireplace of Madame Malkins. Harry was already being attended to by the owner of the shop, who bustled around him exclaiming excitedly.

"Mr Black! My how you've grown! You'll be needing new school robes soon, won't you? Or are you after something special?" Harry gestured at Bellatrix.

"Better ask my aunt." Madame Malkin dashed forwards, producing a cloths brush, and dusted Bellatrix off.

"Mrs Malfoy! A pleasure! Is Draco with you?" Bellatrix shook her head, her long blonde hair shimmering against her elbows.

"Alas, just my nephew. He needs a new set of dress robes, I feel, and perhaps something to wear in the evenings. All those Autumn parties you know." Madame Malkin nodded understandingly.

"I have just what you want, I am sure! A deep green to match his eyes," (she produced a tape measure which whisked around Harry, recording his measurements) "or maybe this new midnight blue. I loved it so much I ordered five rolls of it!" Harry nodded noncommittally.

"Let's see it then," Bellatrix said. Madame Malkin snapped her fingers and a swathe of deep blue material flew out from the back of the shop and unrolled itself around Harry.

"Nice," Bellatrix said appreciatively as pins flew through the air and started attaching folds together, forming the outlines of a set of robes around Harry. He looked intensely bored, but turned to the mirror when she ordered him to and smiled obediently.

"I like it Aunt. Do you think –" He was cut off by the ringing of the shop bell as the door was pushed open and two figures entered the shop. For some reason Harry smiled, a genuine smile and took a step towards them as Bellatrix simultaneously fought not to reach for her wand.

"Hermione, Ron!" he said happily. The two of them stopped and stared at him. Bellatrix stared also, confused. He'd addressed them as _equals_.

"Black," the mudblood girl said frostily. "Since when do you use our first names?" Bellatrix stepped forwards.

"Harry! I didn't know you were on speaking terms with a mudblood." The girl flinched a little whilst the boy reddened.

"How dare you!" he shouted, reaching for his wand.

"Really, there is no need for that language!" Madame Malkin cried. Harry frowned.

"Granger. Mudblood." He didn't actually seem to be talking to her, more testing the concept out in his mouth as his brow furrowed and then cleared again. "Filthy mudblood!" The vehemence with which he spat the words startled all of them, including himself it seemed, and he clapped a hand to his mouth. The Weasley boy raised his wand, his lips forming the spell, but the girl slapped it down.

"Leave it Ron. We'll come back when the air is clean in here. I can barely breathe."

"Funny," Bellatrix murmured. "It was fine when only purebloods were in the shop." She showed her teeth at the pair of them. Madame Malkin coughed.

"Mrs Malfoy I am afraid if you continue using that language I will have to ask you to leave."

"Fine then," Bellatrix snapped, annoyed. "Come Harry. I wouldn't have brought you here if I knew what common muck shopped here. We'll go to Twilfitt and Tatting's!" She made as if to sweep out angrily, green dress swishing dramatically, but stopped because Harry didn't even seem to have heard her. He was staring at the Weasley boy, and again that strange frown hovered over his eyes.

"Weasley," he murmured. "Blood traitor. Ron." He glanced up confused. "Why do you wear pyjamas which are too short for you?" Bellatrix stared at him in horror. _He's losing his wits!_ The Weasley boy flushed unattractively.

"You spying on me Black?" Harry shook his head puzzled.

"It's wrong, I think. I'm not sure though." Bellatrix seized his arm and he cried out at the pressure of her nails through the pinned blue material.

"I _am _sure that we are leaving Harry. Come now." He nodded obediently and the material and pins leapt off him. She dragged him out of the shop and down a small side alley. Checking that there was no one to watch, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him as vigorously as she could, cursing the lack of strength in her sister's slim arms.

"What on earth is wrong with you Harry? You're acting…" What? How was he acting? He'd certainly evinced Deatheater sentiments but it was if they were detached, as if someone else was speaking them for him. His gaze was a little unfocused too… Concerned she felt his forehead with the back of her wrist. A little damp, but it was a warm day. His eyes slid into focus.

"I'm sorry mother. What did you say?" She fought the urge to shake him again.

"Harry. Listen to me. Are you feeling all right?" Maybe someone was bewitching him. Maybe he was being possessed. Had the dream last night been a symptom of some spell? He shrugged.

"A little tired mother. I am sorry to worry you."

"What happened in the shop?" she demanded. He shook his head as if to clear it, and raised his hands to his temples.

"I don't know. Mother…it's as if I know those people. I mean there's a part of me which thinks 'mudblood. Yuck.'"

"As you should," Bellatrix said approvingly.

"But there's another part," he continued, wistfully. "I don't know why, but I felt like smiling when they walked in the shop. I felt… friendly." Bellatrix shivered and took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"It was just tiredness, Harry. It confused you. You're all right now?" He nodded muzzily.

"Yes. Tired is all. Thank you mother." She smiled.

"Right. Now how about a giant sundae?" He squirmed in her grasp.

"Mother! I'm not five!"

"Oh but you love them so much," she wheedled. He smiled and gave in, and she led him off to the haven of sugar and cream.

As he unconcernedly licked his spoon Bellatrix watched him like a cat, fighting her increasing anxiety. Perhaps if she went to the Dark Lord… But he didn't like to be bothered about trivial matters. And she didn't know what to say, because she didn't know what had happened. Was it tiredness? Or something more sinister. Why were there so many questions over Harry, questions which she _knew _she had the answers to but couldn't quite answer at the moment?

He was her son. He had her dark hair and… his father's eyes and build.

His father. Somehow her mind always shied away from that idea. She'd try and think who Harry's father had been and she'd meet a solid wall of assurance which said _I am Harry's mother_ and then she felt satisfied.

Only it wasn't an answer was it?

Deep in the night she'd imagine that Harry's father was someone thrillingly important. Clearly a forgetful spell had been cast to hide his identity (yet she'd never bothered to try and get rid of it…). Someone powerful. Was it the Dark Lord himself? Is that why he'd always charged her to look after Harry so carefully? Was that why Harry could share his dreams? If so then she could understand why her Lord chose to make her forget. A little. Somehow she didn't mind not knowing.

And that was wrong too, wasn't it? She didn't know where this child of hers, nearly a man, with a blob of whipped cream on his nose had come from. All she knew was that she loved him fiercely, powerfully, dangerously. And she'd never let anyone hurt him. So if someone was…if someone was giving him nightmares and confusing him. Then she had to find out the truth. For his sake. To protect him.

And when she found out who it was she'd kill them so dead they'd need to be buried twice.


	4. The shattered spell

A/N – heya! This chap is a bit early, but I was in the mood to write! So, lots of questions answered, but NOT the end of the fic! Hope you like it. Wonder how many of you saw it coming? Many thanks to all my lovely reviewers!! Also love to all the people who have put this story on alert because it shows appreciation. mutters _Reviews would be nice though. _Let me know how you felt this one went.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

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The shattered spell

The bleak sun beat down on the naked terracotta earth and the white hot olive leaves. Bellatrix Black stalked between the arid groves, her hand shading her eyes, squinting in the glare. A little wizened prune of a Greek man watched her inquisitively whilst his mule contemplated the meaning of life. She was too rich, too pale, too full and too soft for this dry atmosphere; the gentle swish of her dress spoke of the patter of far off rain; the blackness of her shadow came from another world. Around this weather queen the heat buzzed with cicadas, their whine grating on her narrow nerves. She kept her eyes on the ground, surveying the unforgiving earth intently whilst small black olives waved in the non-existent breeze above her head. Suddenly she exclaimed at a flash of movement, dropped to her knees and shot her hand out. She grasped the small brown lizard; it dropped its tail in a frantic attempt at escape, but her grip was unrelenting and she lifted it off the hot dust to her eye level. It blinked dimly at her and she smiled, turned on her heel and vanished with a bang.

The little Greek considered. He felt he should go home and tell his wife about the new dark goddess of the olive groves. But the sun was high and the shade slim, and the donkey was settling beneath some bushes, offering its hot side as a tempting pillow. Sighing he lay back and settled his hat over his eyes. His wife would still be there in the cool evening, after all.

In her potions room Bellatrix slid a knife down the lizard's side and skilfully located the heart. As the creature thrashed wildly she flicked the blade and the small organ leapt from its home onto her table. The lizard finished its dying throes and she studded the tiny heart with three cloves before dropping it into the blue potion bubbling in the cauldron over the fire. She stirred it four times clockwise and it hissed, shot steam and slid into a purlply pink. She paused to consult the book on her workbench and smiled to herself. It had to sit for several hours, and then only one more ingredient and her potion would be finished.

It had not been easy to make, but she was a dedicated mother. She needed to help Harry, and she had decided on this potion because it made the drinker aware of any spells they came into contact with. And Bellatrix Black was now totally convinced that Harry was under a spell. Over the past week he had suffered from inexplicable nightmares. He was dissatisfied with a life that had contented him for fifteen years, he clearly yearned for other company (and this hurt her immensely), he showed an incredibly limited interest in learning the dark arts and had pestered her non-stop for his own owl. When she demanded to know who he wanted to write to he had flatly refused to tell her and when she probed his mind his mental defences were stronger than usual. She could have broken through them, but she didn't want to risk hurting him.

And so, the next day, Bellatrix Black ladled the key to ending her desperation and despair into a beaten silver cup and swilled the liquid promise carefully. She took the same knife which had serviced the lizard and jabbed her finger, wincing at the pain. Her blood ran warm and rich down the tip and into the goblet, personalising the potion. It shot a tongue of flame to the ceiling, then settled down to a slow blue burn and she gulped it down whilst it stillblazed, like a flaming shot. The warmth enveloped her throat and slid through her chest, until it rested perceptibly in her belly, filling her with an enthralling heat. She gasped, and grabbed the table as her knees threatened to give a way. The heat spread again, through her torso, down her legs, making them wobble. Waves of fire washed down her arms until she felt that flames would shoot off her finger tips. Finally the heat rose up, into her head, in a sudden rush which made her feel faint. The world spun, so she closed her eyes and focussed on breathing. Slowly she forced it down to deep and regular. The heat died down but she felt different, new, as if something dead had been burned away inside her. As if the whole world had changed slightly, or had been changed and she was suddenly aware of it.

Bellatrix Lestrange opened her eyes slowly, stood up fully and frowned, a little confused. Her head spun slightly, probably as an after-effect of the poem she had just drunk. Another after-effect appeared to be the loss of the ability to remember what it was or why she had drunk it. In fact the last few days were a bit of a blur. Surveying herself in the mirror in the corner of her potions room she was satisfied to see her own reflection preen back at her. Nothing wrong with what was on the outside then. She shook her head to try and clear it from the odd muzziness, and pulled a grumpy pout. Maybe Rudolphus could remind her what she'd been up to.

A crossness seized Bellatrix. She didn't like this dreadful feeling of not knowing exactly what had happened. It irritated her, and was also worrying. Had she been bewitched? A forgetful spell perhaps? She knew of a potion which could help one see through spells one came into contact with, but it would take days to brew… Gnawing her lip in annoyance Bellatrix Lestrange left the potions room and went in search of her husband.

He wasn't in his study. In fact his study was a mess, with books lying open on the mahogany desk, gathering dust. Bellatrix felt her rage rising as she clapped her hands. A House Elf appeared in front of her with a bang, bowing low.

"Mistress!"

"Clean up this mess," Bellatrix snarled, spitting each individual word. The House Elf cast anxious eyes over the room.

"Mistress. Forgive me. I.." she faltered, but gathered herself and struggled on. "I see no mess, Mistress." Bellatrix snarled in anger and grabbed the Elf's absurdly oversized ear.

"The books, you fool! Close them! Clean them!" The Elf twisted in her grasp and wept tears of fear and misery.

"Mistress! Forgive me, please, but the books are all on the shelves." She saw Bellatrix's expression and wrung her hands, whimpering. "I… I can dust them, mistress."

"You utter fool!" Bellatrix screamed. She couldn't understand it. This Elf wasn't blind and yet it was persistently ignoring the books. In a fury she hurled the wretched creature to the floor, and stormed out, leaving it in a puddle of its own tears.

Her temper burned as she stalked through the house. Where the hell was Rudolphus? What was going on? She felt uncertain, caught off-footed, as if a big secret was being kept from her. Her natural defence to such a situation was anger. _Who dares?_ It stopped her from feeling the fear which was threatening to seize her in its cold fingers. _What is happening? _She rolled up her left sleeve, taking comfort in the Dark Mark emblazoned on her wrist. It gave a sensation of quiet, smug constancy. As long as it burned there all would be well.

There was someone in the drawing room. Bellatrix had already passed the open door before she realised that she had seen the dark haired figure. She froze and tiptoed back, wary, her hand reaching for her wand. Someone sat on the sofa, his knees curled up beneath him, a book on his lap, his head bowed so low to it that she could not identify him. But his figure was enough to make her certain about one thing. It was not Rudolphus. A stranger! A young one too, by the look of it. She sized him up, noticing the expensive cut of his clothes; the gold signet ring he wore, just as she wore one, marking him as a member of a pureblood family.

Yet she couldn't for the life of her think which one.

Her temper was still high, and she pushed the door fully open so that it crashed against the wall. To hell with subtlety! She'd force this intruder to state his business and if his answer did not satisfy her then she'd tear him apart.

He glanced up with a look of confusion on his face. Bellatrix froze, horror and glee battling within her breast. He smiled for some reason, a welcoming smile, and made as if to stand.

Her wand shot up.

"Don't you dare move, Potter!" He frowned, a strange lack of fear in his face.

"Who?" He glanced over his shoulder and then laughed, holding his hands out disarmingly. "It's just me, mother." She laughed, triumphant, itching to caress the mark on her arm. But no, she must secure him first!

"_Mother?_ Someone hit you with a Confundus charm, Potter?" He winced at her mocking tone.

"Mother? Are you feeling all right?" He moved to stand and she twitched the wand. Anxiety clouded his eyes. "Look, why don't you put down that wand?" she cackled, savouring this.

"_Put down the wand?_" she mocked. "You poor fool! I don't know how the hell you got here, Potter, but you're even thicker than usual." She raised her left arm. "Perhaps the Dark Lord will be able to fathom your babblings." His face darkened.

"No! Don't summon him! It's not necessary!" She screeched with joy, feeling her own uncertainty fading in the face of his confusion and fear, feeding on his weakness. He hadn't even reached for his wand!

"Afraid of him, are you? Ha! And yet," she frowned, "you don't seem to fear me, boy. We can soon change that. _Crucio!_" He didn't even move, just gaped at her in horror as the spell shot towards him. It blossomed on his chest and his first spasm threw him off the sofa, so that he writhed on the floor, screaming. In amongst the unintelligible shrieks of pain Bellatrix picked out words and laughed, howling them back to him as he yelled.

"_Mother?_ Your mother can't save you now, you fool. Poor Baby Potter! Poor little Baby crying for Mummy!" She lifted the spell abruptly, and he stared up at her, gasping for air, black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. She took a step forwards, utterly convinced of his weakness, and he surprised her, grasping her foot and twisting it out from underneath her so that she fell. Her wand flew out of her hand and as she struggled to get back up he leapt on her, pinning her arms down.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" she screamed in hatred. He held her down, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What have you done with my mother?" She laughed scornfully and he shook her. "Answer me!"

"Your mother's dead, Potter," Bellatrix Lestrange cried, relishing the pain which flooded his young face. "Or had you forgotten?" She howled with glee at his lost look. "Dead and dry. Filthy mudblood bones and ashes." He stared at her in revulsion, drew back a hand and, quick as a snake, hit her hard across the face.

"Don't you dare speak such foul lies!" he screamed, adding a blow to each word. "My mother is a pureblood and she _is _alive!" Bellatrix felt her nose crunch and tasted blood, but she giggled to infuriate him further. His eyes boiled with madness, yet he seemed at a loss as to what to do. She could see in those green depths a wild desire to hurt and hurt and hurt, but he didn't know how.

He was using only one hand to hold her right arm down, as the other one beat her, and she was able, with a flick of her wrist, to evade its grip. Instantly she reached with her right index finger to the Dark Mark and pressed it, feeling the surge of power. He stared at what she'd done, aghast.

"You're a Deatheater," he hissed, incredulously. She snorted.

"He's coming, child. I can feel him approaching. He's coming for your blood." Potter spat in her face.

"When he comes he will kill you for insulting my mother!"

"I highly doubt it!" Bellatrix cried derisively. "Wake up, fool. The Dark Lord comes for you, not me." A tremble of fear shook her. She could feel her Lord approaching. But what if he should see her like this, brawling like a muggle? Concentrating, she apparated away, out from underneath Potter, to where her wand was. He spun around, hissing like a cat as she scooped it up, and she pointed it at him, struggling to stem the flow of blood from her nose with her other hand.

"He's nearly here, boy! Any last words?"

"You're going to die," Harry said softly. He shook with suppressed rage, then tilted his head to the side, a terrible, mad smile on his lips. "You're going to die. Ready?"

Before she had a chance to reply there was a crack and Lord Voldemort appeared in the middle of the room. Bellatrix instantly bowed her head.

"My lord!" she cried excitedly. "My lord! I have him! Harry Potter!" Harry didn't even bother looking at Voldemort, but just laughed coldly.

"My lord, do not be deceived by her. She attacked me and dares to profane my mother!" Bellatrix stared at him in horror. He was speaking to her Lord as if he were a Deatheater! She didn't understand it and trembled a little, wiping the blood from her nose with her free hand. Voldemort sized up the pair of them swiftly with his calculating red eyes and sighed heavily.

"Oh, Bella. What have you done?" His tone was so sad and disappointed that Bellatrix felt all of her previous fear and uncertainty returning tenfold.

"But, my lord, it _is _Potter!" she insisted. "I'll show you!" Raising her wand, she screamed the Cruciatus curse and the red light blazed towards the shocked boy before he had time to react. But Voldemort was fast. He raised a hand and Harry flew to the left, into the giant fireplace. At the same time the Dark lord shouted a fire spell, and with a flick of his wrist some of the Floo powder in the pot beside the fireplace leapt into the sudden flames. Harry disappeared in a flash of green fire, and Bellatrix's spell scorched the carpet harmlessly.

Bellatrix felt her knees give way. She didn't understand; she hadn't understood ever since she drank that damn potion. She was angry, she was humiliated. She was unbearably miserable. She lowered her head and wept behind the curtain of her dark hair, not caring about the tall figure of her Lord in front of her. She felt him move towards her and then his hands, like giant spiders were on her shoulders. Bellatrix shivered under the unfamiliar touch as he lifted her up; his voice was devoid of emotion.

"Bella. Stop crying." He sounded so calm! "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

"I don't understand," she sobbed. He placed one of his hands on her forehead, fingers splayed.

"_Remember_," Lord Voldemort commanded, his voice deep with power. Bellatrix Lestrange staggered as Bellatrix Black rushed into her head, with all her emotions, all her thoughts, all her memories.

"Who did this to me?" she whispered in disgust. "I thought he was my own! Who tricked me?"

"I did," Voldemort said detachedly. She shuddered as the horror of her remembered love for the boy blossomed within her.

"My Lord! Did I… did I displease you so?" She lifted her face, eyes wet with tears. "Was this some punishment?" He laughed, coldly.

"Indeed not, but an honour. A privilege which you, Bella, took delight in tearing apart!" She shivered at the fierceness of his tone. He laughed and continued. "You see, young Harry is not all he seems. He contains within him something of utmost value." She stared at him, dim comprehension dawning like a hesitant sunrise when the mists threaten to choke the cold sun.

"I was a –?"

"A guard, yes," he told her. He pushed her back to sit in an armchair, but remained on his feet, tell and imperious. "Harry Potter is my seventh Horcrux. This fact was made known to me by Severus, when Dumbledore revealed his true plans for the boy to him. I always knew the man was duplicitous, but his depravity shocked even our dear potions master, and he felt it his loyal duty to make me aware of how matters were. Immediately I understood how vital it was that I took Harry into my care before Dumbeldore realised I knew. If I had not I believe he may well have killed the boy to weaken me."

"But, he loves Potter," Bellatrix murmured, unable to see far beyond Harry, Harry in her mind, in her bed, his fingers in her hair, eating lunch with her, hugging her, his filthy hands wrapped around her back, his body close to her, his chest brushing her breasts. Voldemort uttered a mirthless laugh.

"Good people sometimes have an odd way of showing 'love' when push comes to shove," he commented. "The idea of sacrifice is very popular." He pulled a face, but then continued. "So, I captured Harry Potter relatively easily, but was then stuck with a captive who desperately wanted to escape. My Deatheaters weren't keen on entertaining him either." He coughed that cold laugh again. "I needed a guard. To get him out of my way. To keep him safe. But most of all I needed him to want to stay. And I needed the guard to truly care whether he lived or died."

"You rewrote my memory," Bellatrix whispered, coldness trickling through her insides. She knew he was evil, but he was her lord. Surely he could not use her so cruelly, so callously?

"Just yours?" Voldemort snorted. "Bella, what I did was one thousand times more impressive. I rewrite the memory of the _entire world._ I cast a spell so that everyone who knew the name _Harry Potter _was acquainted with his new history. I changed the feelings of hundreds of people towards him: acceptance and love where there had been hate; hatred where once was friendship." He met her gaze, his scarlet candles unrepentant. "I tried to give you happy memories together, you know. I made you want to love each other. But I could see from the beginning that that was my mistake. How could the reality ever compare with the lovely past I constructed for you? He was not capable of being a son. He doesn't know how. And you, my dear." He reached out and stroked her face gently with a cool fingertip. "You were not the best mother. Although you tried to hide that. Too hard, I feel. You just _had _to brew that potion, didn't you? To see through my spell?"

"Rudolphus?" Bellatrix asked, quickly, desperate to change the subject as a hot flush spread on her cheek under his fingertip. "My husband! He doesn't remember…"

'We will see," Voldemort said noncommittally. "You have destroyed this lovely illusion I constructed so I will have to think of a new one." He lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet him. "You understand Bella, I _must _keep him safe. I will try to keep my Deatheaters happy too, but Harry comes first." The words burned black despair in her heart as he repeated them. "Harry comes first." He stood up and turned to go, and she felt as if her soul would break. She needed to say something, anything to keep him a second longer.

"How long?" she cried, tearfully. "How long have we been under your spell?" Voldemort laughed bitterly.

"Alas, there's the tragedy of it," he said quietly. "It took so long to cast, and you broke it in a mere week! The day you went out hunting with Yaxley and allowed Harry to be attacked. That was the first day. That was the first morning." He executed a sardonic bow, twirling his hand above his head in mock respect, and vanished.

Bellatrix Lestrange fell to her knees and emptied her betrayed heart onto the carpet. The House Elves found her three hours later, exhausted from crying and screaming, and took her to her bed. As they carried her in her dreamy exhausted state she vowed that she would never trust the wizard named Lord Voldemort again.


	5. The summer storm

A/N – a VERY short chapter, I know, but necessary I feel. I am working on chapter 6 as fast as I can, but this worked better on its own for dramatic effect etc. As its own mini chapterlet it is dedicated to all my reviewers, but most particularly to Shaitanah who has given me FOUR reviews and the Wolf at Bay who has given me THREE. I love you both! Thank you to everyone else as well. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter not mine.

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The summer storm

The wind tore through the trees and the rain lashed Bellatrix's gardens. She stood in the middle of the lawn, arms spread to the heavens, feeling the warm summer rain washing over her as leaves flew around her. She loved Summer storms, adored the heat and passion of the elements they strove to beat the earth into submission. Her silk nightdress stuck to her, outlining her curvaceous figure. She hadn't bothered to dress for four days, ever since she recovered her memory. She laughed wildly as the rain flowed over her mad lips and tried to drown her. There was a word for this, wasn't there? When your emotions matched the elements. Pathetic fallacy. That was it. Bellatrix felt the storm within her beating a tattoo in response to its raging cousin as the drops slapped her face. She turned her face down as a small, forlorn figure struggled towards her. The House Elf bowed low when it reached her.

"Mistress, will you come in? You will make yourself iller." She laughed, longing for lighting, and reached down and seized the pitiful bundle.

"Since when do you give your mistress orders, slave? I shall stay in the rain until I wish to come in." She had to shout over the roar of the wind, over the creaking of the battered trees. The Elf flinched as thunder rolled overhead and Bellatrix threw her head back in horror. She had missed the lightning! She hurled the Elf from her forgotten, stretched her hands upwards and begged the black sky for another flash. Let it come! Let the power rend the sky in two. Let it tear the monster out of her.

Bellatrix Black shivered inside the cold night dress in terror. She could feel herself being pushed out, offered as a sacrifice to the brilliant lightning. Normally she didn't fear storms but this time she couldn't control the terror within her. Ever since she'd discovered the frivolity of her own existence…her mortality seemed terribly real.

And she was afraid for Harry.

Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in fury at the unwanted emotions rising within her and clutched at her chest as if she wanted to tear her own heart out.

_I will rid myself of you,_ she swore. _Somehow. I don't care how. I will kill you._


	6. The moonlit garden

A/N – a decent length chapter again! I really enjoyed writing this one from the part where Harry goes into the garden. Hope you all enjoy reading it. As always, love to all my reviewers. I can't tell you how happy your comments make me.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter not mine.

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The moonlit garden

A knock at the door made Bellatrix glance up. She lay on her side, on her bed, reading a book. She missed Rudolphus more than she cared to admit, and for a second her heart leapt, but then dropped. Of course it wouldn't be him.

"Enter," she snapped irritably. A small House Elf bowed its way in and she curled her lip. "Yes?" The Elf's nose touched its feet.

"Forgive me, mistress. You have a visitor." Bellatrix turned her attention back to the book.

"Send them away. I'm not interested." The Elf trembled.

"Your sister insisted she'd stay until you saw her," it whimpered. Bellatrix sighed and rolled her head on her neck.

"Oh all right. Send her in. No, wait." She yawned. "Show her in here in ten minutes. And send me Dilly." The Elf made an obeisance and scuttled away. Within a minute the Elf Dilly trotted into the room.

"Radiant mistress. You sent for me?" Bellatrix fought a yawn and ceded the battle.

"Yes, come and brush my hair." She lay on her belly, idly playing with her fingers as the Elf seized the brush on the bedside table and leapt nimbly onto the bed. The creature knelt beside Bellatrix and took the mane of her dark hair in its nimble fingers. The regular brush strokes soothed Bellatrix, and she leaned into them like a cat having its ears rubbed. Why was Narcissa here? Well, she'd find out soon enough.

The Elf dipped the required knee and left a few minutes before Narcissa's arrival. Bellatrix used the time to plump the cushions and sit up in them. She didn't look too bad, she hoped. After all, it was only (she sniffed herself) two days since the storm, the last time she'd come into contact with water. Soap had been nearly a week ago. A gentle knock at the door heralded her sister, and a second later the familiar slim figure sallied into the room. Narcissa looked anxious, and her face fell when she saw Bellatrix.

"Sister! You look so ill!" She ran to the bed and sat down on it beside Bellatrix, her large grey eyes troubled. Bellatrix laughed shortly.

"It is nothing, Cissy. Stress perhaps."

"Yes." Narcissa blushed. "The Dark Lord told me what happened with Harry." Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. She highly doubted he had told the truth.

"And where is my _dear _son?" she enquired archly. Narcissa had the decency to look away.

"He's staying with us now. Since the Dark Lord said you, you…"

"That I am not a fit mother," Bellatrix finished with a bitter smile. "And tell me, Cissy, when may I see _my _son?" The blonde woman fiddled with her hair.

"He said you aren't to see Harry yet." Just as Bellatrix had suspected. Narcissa leant forwards and took her hand. "Bella, what happened? Harry won't tell me and the Dark Lord was vague. Is it true? You attacked Harry?"

"It's true all right," Bellatrix said grimly. The grip on her hand tightened.

"Why?" Narcissa whispered. "Why would you do that, Bella?" She jumped when her sister leant forward and pressed her lips next to her ear.

"Sorry Cissy," she hissed. "But I don't think you're ready to know." Narcissa leapt back like a scalded cat.

"He's been very good," she said defensively. "Done everything I told him to."

"Did you give him an owl?" Bellatrix asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Yes."

"Does Draco hate him?" Narcissa flinched and Bellatrix's tone grew steely. "The truth, Cissy."

"Yes."

"Does he give you a feeling that he's just slightly wrong?" Her sister laughed nervously.

"Bella…"

"Does he?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Ah, but does he?"

"No!" Narcissa snapped. "The person who's acting wrongly is you! Bellatrix I can hardly recognise you!" Bellatrix turned her eyes to Narcissa and the blonde women gasped at the depth of pain in their blue.

"What is my name, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked, pleadingly. Narcissa took her hand away from her sister's.

"Your name is Bellatrix Selina Black." The darkness in her sister's gaze was visibly unnerving her. Bellatrix Lestrange sighed deeply at the reply.

"In that case, Cissy, we have nothing else to say to each other."

The owl came several hours after Narcissa had left. A personal letter from Lord Voldemort. Once Bellatrix would have clutched it like a lovesick schoolgirl. Now she opened it warily, and read it swiftly. It was advance warning for a meeting that evening. She was expected to attend. No excuses.

And Potter would be there.

The cool night air nipped at Bellatrix as she walked up the front drive of Dolohov's house. It tried to be a mansion. It failed to be a mansion. It felt odd, to be clean again. The bath water had been significantly blacker after she'd left it, and her hair had been scented with violet water. She wore, as she always did, the black dress and boots. Emblazoned on her left wrist, the Dark Mark burned brilliantly. It hurt more than usual. Or maybe she enjoyed the pain more in the past? She raised it to her mouth and ran her tongue over it, savouring the taste of darkness. On the outside at least she was the same old Bellatrix Lestrange.

Or Black. Whichever they were expecting.

Harry would be there.

How she hated him! How she loved him! Bellatrix Lestrange swore under her breath. She would find a way to tear this cursed aberration out of her soul even if it killed her. And an idea was beginning to blossom. Bellatrix Black was tied to Harry Potter, as his guard, as his mother. No Potter, no problem. A nice neat solution that would afford great pleasure to Bellatrix Lestrange and hopefully destroy Lady Black for good. Bellatrix opened her nostrils to the beautiful earthy smell of the evening air appreciatively. More rain was coming. She couldn't wait to begin her life anew.

She had been one of the last to arrive that evening, and took a seat further away from the Dark lord than she had ever been before. He sat with his back to the empty fireplace, a pair of candles burning either side of him, balanced on tall, intricate silver candlesticks. The great snake Nagini was wound around his narrow shoulders, her head resting on his thin chest as if asleep. Bellatrix curled her lip at the showy frippery of the wallpaper and ceiling decorations in the room. Not enough money or taste, and a complete denial of the fact; that was Dolohov's problem. Several of the other Deatheaters gave her odd appraising looks as she settled down. She met each gaze steadily. Rudolphus didn't even glance her way, and she was startled by how much that hurt.

Bellatrix Black's heart gave a leap. She had spotted Harry, seated next to Draco Malfoy down at the Dark Lord's end of the table. He looked slightly pale, but composed, his face closed to watchers. Malfoy smirked and her heart broke to see the contrast between the glowing blond boy and the quiet dark-haired boy beside him. _Feeling pity for him now are we?_ Bellatrix Lestrange sneered at herself. With an effort she was able to quash any feelings of pity for the half-blood demon and focus a pure burning hatred on him. It was his fault. Somehow he had engineered it all. Her Lord's deceit. Her fall from grace. Voldemort twitched, as if aware of the blaze of loathing. Maybe he was. She didn't care.

Eventually the Dark Lord leaned forward and addressed them. He had called them together to discuss plans to infiltrate the Ministry, he said. He'd be willing to here any ideas. A few tentative schemes were offered. The Dark Lord listened impassively, his head tipped to one side. He never interrupted. Bellatrix barely heard a word of what was said. Her entire attention was taken up by two figures: Rudolphus, who remained silent and stared carefully at the loathsome wallpaper, and the dark-haired boy with the scar who was at the same time the whole world and the end of it to her. Harry fought not to look at her for a long time, but eventually gave into temptation. When he did meet her gaze she held it, and eventually he was forced to break off. Whatever he had been searching for in her face; compassion, remorse, love; he hadn't found it.

Bellatrix jerked her head up with a start as chairs scraped back. An hour has passed, more, and the meeting was over. She hadn't heard a word, hadn't spoken once, but the Dark Lord was smiling and the other Deatheaters looked pleased with themselves. She forced a similar expression of glee and then Draco laughed sneeringly, breaking the quiet. As she watched he repeated what he'd said just loudly enough for those near him to hear; Harry paled and his jaw jutted; she knew he was grinding his teeth in fury. He gave Draco a look of pure contempt, a look which Draco met openly, boldly, daring him to push it. Harry broke the deadlock first, turning to the Dark Lord and executing a small bow.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I would like some air."

"Walk in the garden," the Dark Lord replied disinterestedly, his attention on the snake which was whispering something to him. Bellatrix watched as the creature's tongue flickered beside her master's ear, and he smiled at what she said. The other Deatheaters were walking through a set of doors into a lounge, to talk in clusters, but Harry pushed past them with little ceremony towards the other door. Towards the way out.

Bellatrix stiffened. Everyone was ignoring her. Now was her chance. Slowly, carefully she stood up and started sliding towards the exit. Voldemort's eyes were closed, his attention on the snake. The other Deatheaters ignored her as she picked her way through them. Already she was a pariah, an example to other Deatheaters of the loss of favour when you displeased the Dark Lord. They averted their eyes from her, frightened of sharing her shame. She refused to allow herself to be intimidated and, reaching the door without mishap, took a last careful glance around the room. The Malfoys were already out of sight, in the lounge. The Dark Lord remained seated, his eyes slowly sweeping the room, but there were a few Deatheaters between them. He didn't seem to have seen her. She slipped out of the door swiftly, her dress hissing against the door frame.

Harry had left via the front door and was standing on the lawns, silver green in the moonlight. Bellatrix's breath came rapidly, clouds misting in front of her. This wasn't like other kills. It would have to be done silently and swiftly. A brief worry flickered in her mind. What would Voldemort do when he found his Horcrux dead? His fury would be terrible. Yet she found she didn't care. Let him rage. Let him kill her. She would be free of the terrible spider web wrapped around her heart, choking her. Bellatrix Black tried to scream to Harry, to warn him. He was oblivious; standing silently, hands behind his back, staring at the hedges. Now he started, as if aware of her presence and Bellatrix shrunk back. He didn't look behind him, but turned and started walking towards a fountain where a naked and ill-proportioned naiad was frozen in coy amusement at the jets of water pouring from her nipples. Harry sat down at the edge of the fountain and Bellatrix Lestrange slunk forward, a silken shadow in the dark night. As she watched he trailed his hand in the basin of water, just as she had that night he had been attacked.

The day she had woken up with a son.

She hesitated, torn by her conflicting emotions. In front of her was a boy, nothing more, still legally a child, lost and alone. It wasn't his fault he had been interposed into her life; it had been the Dark lord's decision. And he had genuinely loved her. He probably still did. Bellatrix Black wanted nothing more than to run to him, to comfort him and hold him.

Which was exactly why Bellatrix Lestrange had to kill him. She drew her wand, her composure and certainty returning. He would die now. This boy, who had defied death for so long, would die in the moonlight, at the hand of a woman he loved. It was delightfully tragic. It was deliciously evil. And she would be free.

A hand clapped over her mouth, stifling her reactive scream. A second one wrenched the wand out of her grasp, then grabbed her arm and twisted it up behind her back. It happened too fast for her to stop it, and suddenly she was being held by someone with a painfully strong grip.

"Can I not leave you two alone for five minutes?" Voldemort exclaimed in her ear, his voice an aggravated whisper. Icy fear ran through her. There was no point pretending. He knew what she had been intending to do. She was lost. She was lost.

_Harry's still alive! _Bellatrix Black cheered. Bellatrix Lestrange was too empty to care.

Voldemort led her away from Harry, who still hadn't noticed them, and around the corner of the house into a small yet distractingly ostentatious pagoda. His grip was far from gentle. Only when they were in the pagoda did he remove his hand from her mouth and throw her to the ground as she was accustomed to hurling House Elves around. She sprawled, her hair over her face, and it took an act of supreme bravery to lift her head. Voldemort glared at her, his eyes crackling with anger.

"Do you know what happened to the last Deatheater who betrayed me?" he hissed. She shook. It hadn't been an attack on him! Just Harry. It was only about Harry. Voldemort snorted. "My Horcrux!" he snarled. "You wanted to kill him, and you think that it's just about Harry?" He stared at her in contempt. "To think that I once valued you." Bellatrix Lestrange shrunk away from his harsh tone, the pain almost unbearable. She hadn't believed that he could hurt her more, but now fresh guilt washed over her, fresh agony at his words. Deep down in her soul she was his creature and every spat syllable was like a kick.

Except that Bellatrix Black could see through the pain. She rolled over so that she lay facing him and lifted herself up on her elbows.

"You shouldn't have tampered with me. You made me wrong. It's your fault." Voldemort looked as if he'd dearly have loved to strike her, but checked his hand. Instead the anger filtered away and amusement filled his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

"And who are _you_, then? My Bella would not answer back to me so brazenly." Bellatrix Black shivered. She was a Deatheater, she was conditioned to love this monster, to fear him. Only there was something more important in life even than Voldemort.

"I am yours through and through," she whispered. "You made me to look after Harry. To love him. Perhaps then you made me too well. He's miserable." She barked a nervous laugh. "It's not working. He's not satisfied, Dark Lord." Voldemort paused, considering.

"I will fix that," he said calmly. "But now, Bellatrix, what shall I do? By all rights you should die." She trembled, but it was clear that the fury had left him. For once he seemed in a lenient mood, and she wondered if he regretted what he had done. It had cost him a faithful Deatheater, after all. Voldemort smiled coldly. "You value yourself too much, Bella. I regret nothing. Yet I will not kill you. Instead I will tame you." He suddenly bent down and grasped her arm, lifting her to her feet in one fluid movement. She rocked, regaining her balance. There was a rush of sleeve, and Voldemort's hand was in an instant pressed against her forehead. When he spoke his voice was deep with magic.

"_If you try and harm him you will suffer for it. You will not be able to lift your wand without pain; you will not be able to say the words without your head splitting. Lady Bellatrix, Black and Lestrange, I bind you to Harry Potter forever. As he lives, you live. When he dies so you too will perish._' He removed his hand and Bellatrix nearly collapsed. She stared at him in horror. He curved his lips appreciatively, pleased with himself. "Much better than death, I feel. Look after him, Bella. Your life literally depends on it." She reached out to grasp his hand, to plead, but he vanished before she could touch him.

_I've won_, Bellatrix Black giggled. _He's safe. I've won._

"Be quiet," Bellatrix Lestrange snapped aloud. "Silence, spell-child. You can not win." The Dark Lord thought he'd won did he? Well she'd show him. More than anything at that moment she wanted to hurt him, to weaken him. If she could do that then she'd die happy.

She set off purposefully, jogging back across the lawn. Harry was still at the fountain where'd she'd left him five, ten minutes ago. Her wand lay in the grass where it had fallen, and she stooped to pick it up. It was too easy. And it would finally be over. She _would _be free.

_You can't_! Bellatrix Black whispered.

"I can," she hissed back. She lifted her wand… and nearly dropped it as her arm felt as if it had been plunged into flames. It was all she could do not to scream, the pain was so intense. It was burning her, so painful, she was going to black out. Desperately she tried to force the words of the killing spell through her lips as her wand hand trembled.

"_Ava–_" And then her skull felt as if it had been sliced in half. Bellatrix dropped her wand and fell to her knees, clutching her head and howling in agony. Dimly, through teary eyes, she saw Harry jump, spin around, start walking to her.

_No! _Bellatrix Black screamed.

_Not you, _Bellatrix Lestrange cried.

And then merciful darkness enveloped her.


	7. And the spell broke

A/N - Woo! Chapter 7 up. And only two or three more to go (depending on how much dialogue the characters demand)I THINK. Anyway lots of action in this one near the end, and an interesting twist. Do you like it? Please review and let me know.

Disclaimer - Harry Potter not mine

And the spell broke

Slowly Bellatrix regained consciousness. Her head ached abominably, and the pain might have been worse, but someone had placed a cool flannel over her brow. Cautiously she sat up and took in her surroundings. She was lying on an elegant and somewhat uncomfortable green sofa, in a room of polished dark wood and bookshelves, with a fire gently smouldering in its grate. Malfoy Manor then. Slowly she managed to stand herself up, and wobbled, reaching out to grasp the sofa with her hand as the blood rushed to her head.

"You should probably stay lying down," a voice observed. Glancing up she saw her nephew, Draco, sitting comfortably on a chair with a book balanced on his knee. He didn't look at her but instead perused the page. "The Dark Lord said you tried a spell that was way too advanced for even you." Carefully he marked his page with a black silk ribbon, then shut the volume and regarded her curiously. "What _did_ you try to do, Aunt?" She reached up and peeled the flannel off her forehead, and tried to think. She'd tried to attack Harry so that she could tear the darkness out of her. Or was it the opposite? Had she protected him from something? What _had _happened?

"I think I'm still a bit woozy," she muttered, sitting down again on the sofa. Draco waved his fingers and a tumbler of whisky and ice appeared in his other hand. He stood up and walked over to her sofa, settling himself beside her.

"This might be good for you," he offered. She gulped it down gratefully. As the burn slid down her throat her memories slunk back to her. She leant back with her eyes closed as the horror of what the Dark Lord had done washed through her. _He's controlling me! _She toyed subconsciously with her wand. Was it just against Harry? Or was she completely shackled?

"My son," she whispered. "Harry. Can you, can you send him to me please?" Draco sighed.

"You mean get up and go and fetch him? Enter his room and risk catching some dreadful disease that lurks in piles of unwashed underwear?" He caught her expression of hurt and stood up. "Of course I will, Aunt. Please stay sitting down, though. You still look very ill." She nodded, feeling stifled by his presence, and didn't breathe easily until he had walked gracefully out of the library. Strange how he could possess such a languid beauty, her nephew, whilst her own son, no, whilst _Potter _was always such a damn klutz.

Once Draco had left Bellatrix was able to think more clearly. One thing stood out above all others. The sooner her mind was clean again the better.

"My name is Bellatrix Black," she said aloud to the library, and was upset at how the words felt neither true nor false. "My name is Bellatrix Lestrange," she tried. The books regarded her impassively, as she shivered uneasily. Neither sounded right. It didn't matter which side went, what had to give; she could _not_ stand this damned middleness.

"I am neither and both," she told the still air, and the misery and confusion rolled together into a heavy ball inside her chest. She couldn't kill Harry, she knew that. It wasn't merely the Dark Lord's spell… there was a barrier within herself now which said _NO _whenever she pursued that thought. Half of her wanted to kill him so that she could return to Bellatrix Lestrange, and half of her wanted to die for him. _It's all his fault_, she told herself, and was surprised to find that both halves agreed. _Life would be easier without him_, both sides whispered.

"I can't stand this wretched longing any more!" Bellatrix Black cried in anguish. It was so terrible, to want him, to want to love him and yet know that it was only an illusion. To know that it wasn't the real or the right way. To know that there was always a chance that he would wake up and stare at her with the hatred that had been in his eyes when he had woken from his nightmare so many nights ago. _He's trying to fight it,_ she realised, in a sudden shock which swept across her mind. Harry was fighting to escape this spell, to remember his old life. The rest of the world could continue complacently accepting a few twisted facts but she and Harry had lost their whole lives, had been jammed into new shoes and, finding that they didn't fit, had started to wonder why.

And that was interesting.

Bellatrix smiled tightly as the first germs of an idea occurred to her. It was still in the embryonic stage: a first step and a desired outcome, but already the route was mapping itself out. And both sides of her agreed. Very carefully, very slowly, she stood up.

"My name is Bellatrix. I was deceived by the Dark Lord. I have been violated by him. I will have my revenge." The books gave silent agreement as the truth rolled around them, the dying echoes disturbing the dust.

A knock at the door recalled Bellatrix to herself, and she sat down on the sofa, leaning back and closing her eyes, determined to present an unthreatening figure.

"Come in." The door creaked and then there came a heavy tread, so unlike Draco's glide. The chair, where Draco had sat opposite to the sofa, creaked. Warily she opened her eyes and took in Harry, seated there.

He was pale, sadness stamped in the purple bags which hung under his eyes. The colours over his face horrified her; the brilliant green of those angry eyes, his lips which stood out pinkly against the frighteningly white skin, the purple blotches.

"You don't look well," she observed. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, slender knuckles standing out with their veil of blue veins sliding over them.

"Who are you?" Bellatrix smiled at the sound of his voice. It made her feel… in control again. A delicious feeling, like she was wearing a silk dress. She swung herself around, lying on her side on the sofa, supporting her chin on her hand, her legs stretching out behind her.

"My name is Bellatrix," she purred. He frowned.

"No. You are not my mother" She showed her teeth.

"Correct. But I _am _Bellatrix. Why else do you think the Dark Lord has let me live?" Beautiful perplexity clouded his face and it sent luxurious shivers through Bellatrix. She had her claws in him; she just needed to draw him in. _He's hurting, _Bellatrix Black whispered. _Do you want him to know the truth or not? _Bellatrix Lestrange demanded. _He's not happy as Harry Black. We will set him free. _

"I don't know what you did to Voldemort," Harry said deliberately. "But you can not fool me. You are _not _my mother."

"As I said before, you are correct," Bellatrix said, picking her words with exquisite enjoyment. "However, I will reiterate, I _am _Bellatrix. Work it out child." Again the confusion, and then a haunted look crept into those mistrustful eyes.

"You are clearly a liar. You are trying to tell me that Bellatrix is not my mother." She applauded slowly and mockingly.

"Trying and failing, it seems. Must I spell it out for you? I, Bellatrix, am not your mother, and if you really do believe that then you are a fool." His eyes darkened with anger.

"I am not!"

"Then tell me your name, child, and I shall give you _my_ true one," she mocked.

"My name is Harry James Black!" he snapped.

"And I am Bellatrix Lestrange!" He opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish, confused. "Harry James Black. James, James," she jeered. "Who was James? Tell me James' name!"

"James Alexander Potter!" He'd answered before he knew it, and stared in shock at the words as they dissolved in the air between them.

"You know his full name," Bellatrix said softly. "How do you know the full name of a complete stranger, boy?"

"I..." he faltered, confused.

"What did he look like?" she pressed.

"Black hair, glasses, blue eyes," he answered slowly. The fear burned deeper in his eyes. "How do I know that?"

"Next question," Bellatrix laughed. "Lily Potter. His wife. Hair colour?"

"Red."

"Eyes?"

"Green." He answered automatically, looking astonished at the information stored within his mind.

"How did she die?" The words shimmered in the air between them, a silvery thread back to the past he didn't know he had.

"Voldemort killed her," Harry whispered. "He killed her. There was green light and, and, _why does my head ache so much_?" The last words were shouted, and he buried his face in his hands, tears leaking from his eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange regarded him coolly, but Bellatrix Black compelled her to stand and walk over to him. She reached out a gentle hand and lifted his face, blotchy with anger and pain, to meet hers. He stared at her with a complete lack of barriers, mesmerised by this woman who could read his mind better than he could. His forehead was hot under her fingertips, as if he had a fever, his tears warm and wet. Tenderly she traced the elegant scar with the index finger of her left hand, feeling him wince at her touch. His eyes strayed down her wrist to the Dark Mark, squatting like some cancerous stain on her slender wrist.

"Did you never wonder why he didn't take you as his own?" she whispered. "Did you ever notice the slight? Draco bears the mark, and you don't. But he knew. The Dark Lord knew you could not stand it. He knew that the very touch of it would show you how wrong it was, that it would burn the truth back into you." Harry reached out a trembling hand and touched her Mark, whipping the hand away again as the skull burned angrily against his fingers. "Do you want to know the truth?" Bellatrix asked. "I think you have to want it, you know. To break the web of lies. He had to have a way to get people out." Harry's eyes were afraid.

"Yes. I want to know." She snorted.

"Liar. The very thought terrifies you."

"Then I need to know," he hissed. She held his gaze and smiled.

"That'll do." Lifting her hand to his forehead she concentrated, splaying her fingertips over the sweaty surface. _I don't want to hurt him. I want to help him. _There was no pain: Voldemort's chains were not activated.

"_Remember, Harry Potter_," Bellatrix whispered, the words resonating with her power.

And the spell broke.

Harry Potter moved away from her very carefully, his face closed, his eyes deeply suspicious. She stepped back and resumed her position on the sofa. It was strange, this kindred spirit she felt with him. Apart from the Dark Lord, they were the only two who knew the truth now. Harry leant forwards, like a co-conspirator.

"It strikes me, Bellatrix, that we have both been deeply wronged," he murmured. She showed her teeth in ready reply.

"Can you see why? Do you know?" His face remained inscrutable.

"I am a Horcrux, am I not? If you truly wish to revenge yourself on Voldemort then you should kill me."

"But I cannot!" Bellatrix screamed in anger and frustration. Her words echoed around the library and she lowered her voice anxiously. "He bound me to you, and much as I'd like to tear you apart, I can't." Harry tilted his head.

"Then we should work together to take a revenge, perhaps?" She seized on his words.

"Yes! Although…" she regarded him from under her sly eyelashes. "The Dark Lord needs you alive. If you were not he would be greatly… weakened." A serpentine smile flickered over Harry's face.

"How true. A plausible way out, Bella. Destroy myself and enjoy the knowledge that I am weakening Voldemort."

"Think," she urged. "We could destroy the other Horcruxes together! My power and your knowledge of the Dark Lord and his mind, combined."

"And then I'd die and you finish him off," Harry concurred. "Oh I like that, Lady Lestrange."

"You do?" she asked a little nonplussed. Inside she laughed. It was so easy! She wouldn't have to kill him at all; merely lead him to kill himself. Yet Harry's eyes were dark.

"But of course, you do know that when I die you too will?" Bellatrix started.

"How do you know that?" she asked, as the memory of Voldemort's words flooded back to her. He shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe it is part of the spell. I know its provisions. How would you destroy Voldemort if both you and I were dead?" Bellatrix ground her teeth in frustration, but the pain in her chest, the division was so great that perhaps…

"I don't care!" she snarled, suddenly furious. "I'll die, if it'll release me from this halfness!"

The rattle of the library door interrupted them, and they both looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy walking towards them.

"Bella! Draco said you had woken!" she cried, holding her hands out to her sister. Bellatrix smiled in reply.

"We'll discuss plans in the near future," she hissed to Harry out of the corner of her mouth. He leant forward.

"There is nothing more to discuss." She frowned a little. His voice was strangely hard, but when he spoke his next words it was unbearably sad. "As for Bellatrix Black. If you are still in there then I apologise. I truly do."

He stood up and left Bellatrix and her sister. She stared at his retreating back with suspicion, but dismissed his words readily enough. He was just another weak _good _person after all.

Bellatrix accepted an invitation to spend the night at Malfoy Manor, but was woken abruptly from her sleep by a sudden knocking at the door.

"_Lumos!_" she hissed. The door crashed open and she drew herself up angrily. "Who dares come here?" She quailed and her heart curled into a ball as Rudolphus entered the room, his face lit up by the pulsating glow of his wand, followed by Yaxley, Snape, Lucius Malfoy. _No… _

"Bellatrix Black," Rudolphus began, his familiar voice cold and detached. "You are hereby charged with treachery and sedition. I arrest you in the name of the Dark Lord."

"No! _NO!_" She didn't have the wits to fight them off, but dropped her wand in the horror of it all. They grasped her under her arms, averting their eyes from her revealing nightdress, and dragged her out of the room. In the corridor Narcissa stood, wide-eyed and frightened.

"Lucius! Lucius don't hurt her!" she screamed.

"You! Traitor! You are no sister of mine!" Bellatrix howled at her.

"I didn't know," Narcissa wept miserably. She sprang forward to try and grasp her husband's arm but he stepped away from her, and Yaxley grabbed her instead, throwing her to the floor. She huddled in a heap, the nightdress sliding off her shoulders.

"Let me go!" Bellatrix screamed. "Let me go! LET ME GO!" They ignored her hysterical shouts, and tightened their grips, dragging her towards her fate. "No! Please, let me go!"


	8. A cold cell

A/N – nearing the end! Only a maximum of two more chapters. So here is chapter 8 – I'd be very interested to hear whose side you are on after reading it, as I had to argue two points of view between Voldemort and Bella and I don't know which one is more convincing! Thanks for hanging on this far. Enjoy

–Dommy-

Disclaimer – Harry Potter not mine

* * *

A cold cell

The cell was a room with no aspirations. It knew what it was: there was no carpet, no luxury to pretend that it was anything other than a holding pen. Just like Azkaban. Bellatrix shivered on the pallet bed, her bare feet cold from the stone floor. There were no candles, no fire and no windows. Instead the walls glowed an eerie blue, filling the room with a meagre light. They'd taken her wand away, and a charm had been cast on the room which made her feel sick whenever she tried the simplest wandless magic. She still wore only the thin nightdress, and the goose pimples prickled over her bare arms. There was even a Dementor outside the door, adding to the cold.

How could he do this to her? Her own Lord, for whom she had endured the horror of Azkaban. He had sent her back to it. He had betrayed her. He wanted to destroy her. Miserable and frightened, Bellatrix fought the tears that threatened to spill. _I endured fourteen years of this! _

_It was just one year_, Bellatrix Black soothed, and she recalled happy memories of Harry. They were false; she knew that, but they were preferable to recalling the loneliness of those many dark hours and the despair of knowing how close Rudolphus was and never being able to see him.

Rudolphus. That was what had broken her. It didn't matter, really, that Voldemort turned against her. There was no love lost between them now, and he was justified in seeing her as a threat (although she'd never felt that to be further from the truth, huddled in the cell). But Rudolphus? Her husband? The man she had gone to Azkaban with. Did he truly not remember the dim gloom, the gnawing emptiness and eternal cold? How could he condemn her to it? How could he have thrown her so casually into this hell? Bellatrix hugged her knees and sobbed. It was all wrong. It had all gone wrong, and she had no way of going back.

_This isn't __how it was supposed to be,_ she wept. None of this would have happened if the Dark Lord hadn't found out that Harry was a Horcrux. She'd still be a favoured Deatheater, her loyalty undivided. Rudolphus would still be there, with his warm, comforting presence to snuggle next to in the night instead of the cold stillness she was locked in with now. Lucius would not have attacked her. Her baby sister, Narcissa, wouldn't have screamed, or been thrown to the floor. Wouldn't have had to see her husband turn his face away from her. And she, Bellatrix Lestrange, would not have been reduced (reduced!) to plotting with the son of a mudblood to destroy Lord Voldemort. Tired and confused, she cried herself to sleep under the thin grey blanket on the bed.

She was woken by the grinding of the door as it opened, and sat up, instantly alert. Voldemort stepped into the room, his face a ghastly death mask in the dim blue light from the walls, and the very sight of him reawakened the fire within her. She knew who she was; for once she truly did. Her name was Bellatrix and she would _not_ be treated like this.

A wave of the Dark Lord's hand conjured a wooden chair for him to sit on, and he sank down slowly, facing her. 

"Now look what we have come to," he said quietly, his voice emotionless. She didn't know if 'we' was only her, or the both of them. Thrusting her uncertainty aside, she threw off the grey blanket and stood to face him.

"Why am I here?" she demanded. "How dare you treat me like this?" Voldemort's face darkened.

"Do you forget who I am?" he asked, his tone poisonous. "How dare _you _speak to me with that tone! _Crucio!_" She fell to the floor, screaming, as the hideous pain ran like hot lead through her bones. Voldemort held the spell for a considerable length of time. At last he released her, and she struggled to stand, panting, and aching with every heaving breath. "There'll be more of that if I ever catch such a devil of a temper in your eyes again," Voldemort warned. Bellatrix flung her head back, teeth gritted.

"Then torture me again, _my lord_, and again, until I truly do go insane! It's not a far step after all you've done."

"Do not tempt me," he threatened. She laughed bitterly.

"Truly you should not need further temptation, _my lord_, when you throw me, me! your most faithful, into a cell so like Azkaban." Her words hissed through her teeth. "The world may believe that Bellatrix Black only spent one year in that hole, but _you _know and _I _know that it was fourteen years which I suffered for you! I wish it _was_ just one year, since that is all you are worth!"

"Watch your tongue, Bella!" Voldemort cried angrily. "It is surprisingly eager to confirm your guilty treachery!"

"Treachery?" she screamed. 

"You plotted to destroy my Horcruxes, and then me," Voldemort whispered, his eyes cold with anger. "Fortunately your co-conspirator still remembered where his loyalties lie." Bellatrix's heart missed a beat, and then another, as questions whirled around her. Harry? _Harry? _He had betrayed her. But why? What had Harry Potter to gain from helping the Dark Lord? It was only Harry Black who could want to aid him, but she'd destroyed Black, hadn't she? Had she? Had he been pretending? Was he still caught in Voldemort's spider web of lies? 

"Your informant lied," she tried, but Voldemort shook his head.

"You are the one lying Bella. I can always tell." Her pride rushed back fiercely to her.

"And is there any reason I should not have attempted to bring you down, _my lord_? After you deceived me, stole my husband from me and crippled me?"

"Only a child would have allowed such things to turn them," Voldemort said calmly. "If you had thought at all you would have realised the validity and necessity of my actions."

"Your _actions_ hurt me!"

"Now you are being petulant! They were not designed to hurt you. I tried to make you happy!" he shouted. 

"I loved…" Bellatrix began, but he cut her off.

"Yes, you _loved_. You loved Rudolphus, but I gave you Harry. I tried to fulfil that ridiculous need of yours, to placate your flaw. But you wouldn't have it! Love has blinded you to what needed to be done! And now see how you have sunk because of your love!"

"I loved you!" Bellatrix spat at him, and she tried desperately to summon her strength and curse him even without a wand, for his foolish and callous throwing away of her. The charm on the cell was too strong to allow it, and a numbing sickness spread through her, causing the world to spin. In desperation Bellatrix stopped her attempts and instead leapt at Voldemort. She had no idea what she'd do, but she needed to hurt him to make him understand her misery, to make him understand how much he had hurt her! He caught her with his magic before she even reached him, and threw her across the floor, skidding on the cold stone. She looked up from the now familiar position of lying before him to see him standing over her, his eyes blazing with uncontrolled fury.

"If that is what your love is worth, woman, then keep it and may it go to hell with you!" he shouted. He raised his wand, hatred burning in his terrifying face. "_Crucio!_" Bellatrix shrieked as the spell raced through her, her ruined body jerking and kicking. Surely this was it! He would send her to her death in this fiery hell! Just as she felt certain she would now die he lifted the spell off her. Bellatrix's sides heaved, and she threw up, the vomit splattering over the stone flags. Voldemort's face twisted in disgust and he made as if to look away.

"No!" Bellatrix howled. "Look at me, you monster! See what you've done!" She pulled herself upright and tore the flimsy nightdress off over her head. Voldemort regarded her nakedness with a calm detachment, as she ran her hands over her smooth belly. "Lady Black believed she had a baby, but look, no stretch marks!" Bellatrix screamed. "And look!" She ran her hands over her gaunt face. "Look what Azkaban did to Bellatrix Lestrange! It wasn't one year; it was fourteen and see how changed I am!" The tears flowed down her grimy cheeks. "See what I have endured for you! And you thought nothing of tearing apart the one thing that was left to me as whole! You took my mind!" She thrust her left wrist at him, the acrimonious Dark Mark blistering the white skin. "Then take it back, Voldemort!" It was the first time she had ever addressed him by his assumed name, and the word burnt like acid on her tongue. "Take your wretched cancer off me!" He continued looking at her with calm impassivity.

"No, Bella, you will wear that still. As a reminder of the path _you _chose. I never demanded that you swear loyalty to me, but I did demand that you keep that oath. You chose to join me. You chose to leave me." He turned away from her, his voice sad. "It has been your hand in everything, not mine." Bellatrix sank back down onto the floor, her heart failing her.

"What will become of me?" she whimpered.

"You will be executed," Voldemort said softly. "Publicly, so that all can see what becomes of Deatheaters who plot against me and who spread malicious lies and thoughts. You may scream the truth as much as you like. No one will believe you." His shoulders sank slightly, as if under some great weight. "I will ensure that it is swift," he said, his voice strangely soft. She lifted her head in surprise, but he did not look back at her as he swept out of the room. 

Several hours passed, during which Bellatrix redressed herself and sat on the narrow bed. The horror of approaching death would have been bearable if she knew _when _she was to be executed (after all, what else was there left to her now?), but the suspense caught like a massive lump in her throat. When the door did scrape open again she leapt up in terror, and started shaking as Rudolphus walked into the room.

"Rudolphus," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the screaming earlier, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand.

"Save it, Lestrange. I'm just the guard. Your son is here to visit you." Behind him the person she wanted least of all to see entered through the door and carefully shut it behind him. Rudolphus conjured up a chair and parked himself beside the door. "Five minutes," he warned, his wand pointing openly at Bellatrix as she sat herself back down. Harry took a few tentative steps forward. Bellatrix regarded him with unbridled hatred.

"Go away. I do not want to see you." Harry ignored her words, glanced at Rudolphus, and then stopped in front of her; at enough of a distance to be able to spring back should he need to. She noticed that one of his hands was clenched tightly shut, with black soil showing through the gaps in his knuckles.

"Do you remember Sirius, mother?" he asked coldly. "Because I sure as hell do." She gaped at him. He'd betrayed her for a dead man? True, she'd forgotten that he might harbour bitterness over the death of his godfather, but had it really led him to ally himself with the Dark Lord? Harry smiled oddly. "I often think of going back to that day and changing it," he said sadly. "But I guess it would mess up too much other stuff. It happened and we can't alter that." He laughed. "Tell me mother. Is there anything you wish you could undo?" She stared at him in annoyed confusion.

"Clearly I would not place myself in my present position," she said acidly. He frowned. 

"So you did this yourself then? It was all your fault?"

"Don't be a fool!" she spat, unsure of what he was playing at or even who he was at the moment. Black or Potter? Harry cocked his head, considering.

"It seems to me that you must be feeling pretty desperate now," he said calmly. "I mean, facing execution and all. It must be small comfort to know your treasonous plans would never have worked. They were far too late to stop the tide, you see. There's nothing you can do, because it was never your fault." Bellatrix blinked. He was talking gibberish, surely.

"If you don't have anything useful to say, leave me," she snarled. Harry sighed.

"Someone must have let the Dark Lord know," he said carefully, as if explaining to a child. In the corner Rudolphus pricked up his ears.

"Know what?" he demanded. Harry twisted his head, face open and innocent.

"About her guilt," he replied, instantly. "About everything leading to this sorry affair." His voice turned bitter. "To think. My own mother!" In a sudden fit of anger he hurled his handful of earth at her, the dirt hitting her in the face and catching in her hair. She sneezed at it and raised a hand to wipe it out of her eyes.

"Get out, ingrate!" she howled. "I tried to help you!"

"And now only you can help yourself!" he mocked, as he turned away from her. Rudolphus stood up with him, and together they left the room. 

Grumpily Bellatrix brushed the soil off herself. She didn't understand why he'd bothered bringing it with him. Did he hate her so much he'd premeditated throwing it at her? She opened the front of her nightdress to pick out the scratching particles, and as she looked down a glitter of something on the bed caught her eye. Her breath caught, and very carefully she reached down and smoothed aside the ruckled blanket. Her heart didn't dare to beat. 

Harry's hand hadn't only held dirt. 

Gleaming on the thin grey blanket was a tiny time-turner.


	9. The misty heights

A/N – here it is! The very end of _Lady Black_. This entire fic is dedicated to celestialuna, XxMookinexX, The French Dark Lord, Matt1267, Fibinaci, Shaitanah, minerdude, Moony126, Stygius.Magic and the Wolf at Bay, who have supported me with lovely, encouraging reviews.

I also want to thank all of you who favourited this fic, or put it on story alert. Writing reviews isn't to everyone's taste, and I really do appreciate that you still show your interest in these other ways. It would be nice if you could perhaps leave me one review, to tell me what you thought of the whole thing.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter is not mine. The stuff in italics at the end is all J.K's own words. I claim no credit for it.

* * *

The misty heights

Bellatrix spun the tiny hour glass in her fingers. She'd never used a time turner before, and the thought frightened her. What if she changed time so that everything went wrong? Yet surely the world could not be more wrong than it currently was. Bellatrix Lestrange wished for nothing more than to make her own life as it was before in sunnier times, from the black depths of her innately selfish heart; whilst Bellatrix Black grieved for Harry, trapped in the wrong life, and wished to give him back his place in the world. So her actions would not be totally self-centred; or so she told herself. She did not have room inside her soul, so wrapped up in loving herself, to consider Lord Voldemort and the effects of changing time on him.

Yet still she hesitated, unsure where to go or what to change. She vaguely thought that it had been Snape who had told Voldemort that Potter was a Horcrux, but she could not swear to it, and the thought that she might be wrong made her hesitate and run over the options available to her again and again. Theoretically she could reach any time in the past, and change any part of her life, but the consequences of such actions had to be carefully weighed up.

A knocking at the cell door told her that her time was up, and frantically she looped the slender gold chain of the time turner over her neck. The door crashed open; Rudolphus stood there, and Lucius. The pain of seeing her husband was almost unbearable. Rudolphus had come to take her to be executed. Rudolphus. The one man she had always loved. Frantically she spun the tiny hour glass between her fingers, desperate to escape him. As it whirred she grasped with her mind for a time to travel to. You had to hold the exact time very clearly in your mind, or the Turner wouldn't work. It might try and take you to several times at once. It might just drop you somewhere along the way. Both scenarios were known to be lethal. _Take me to the day before Snape told him, _Bellatrix thought desperately, and she prayed that it really had been Snape who had told.

Rudolphus gave a shout of anger, but it was too late. The dim cell dissolved, his shout wobbling like a badly tuned radio, and she had the feeling that she was whizzing backwards, unbelievably fast. It didn't take as long as she'd expected it to, but then it was only a month at most for her to travel back. Her feet hit solid ground and she stumbled onto one knee. Carefully Bellatrix lifted her head, taking in her surroundings. She had landed in a filthy mill town, characterised by the large, disused factory chimney hovering above the rooftops, wreathed with the smoky fog. The smell of a dirty river nearby floated between the houses, which loomed oppressively around her. Underneath her feet rested uneven cobbles, whilst above her the remaining street lamps which were not broken threatened to follow their smashed compatriots with their dim flickering. It was cold: the chilly mist rolled through the streets and the dark boarded up houses didn't offer any comfort at all. Bellatrix pulled the strap of her flimsy night dress back onto her shoulder (it had slipped down as she had travelled), and rotated herself warily, unsure as to why she had been brought here.

The street sign at knee level read 'Spinner's End', and a glimmering of recognition rushed back to Bellatrix. One house at the end of the street looked vaguely familiar, and she approached it cautiously, the cold cobbles bruising her soft feet. She'd never felt as naked and exposed before, without either her wand or her clothes, and the cold mist drew wet lines over her bare arms. Her night dress stuck to her, entirely unsuitable for the atmosphere.

She stopped outside the end house, and somewhat timidly rapped on the door. There was a long pause where nothing happened, and she was afraid that no answer would come, but eventually she heard the sound of a bolt being scraped back, and the door slid open a crack. Beady black eyes, sheltering under a greasy curtain of hair, peered suspiciously at her, and then the door was wrenched open and Snape stood there, his breath misting in the frigid air.

"Bellatrix!" he exclaimed, a little suspiciously, for there was no love lost between them. Swallowing her pride Bellatrix bowed her head in a sign of humility and raised it again to meet his gaze.

"I need to come in please," she hissed, her teeth chattering. Snape hesitated, as if preparing to deny her entry, but she looked so white and cold that he relented and gestured for her to enter. Carefully Bellatrix stepped into the stale interior of the house, and Snape ushered her into his tiny sitting room, ringed with walls of books. She curled up on the warmthless sofa, wrapping her knees to her. In a rare show of compassion Snape conjured up a blanket for her. It was musty and moth eaten, but warmer than the night dress alone, and she snuggled gratefully into it. Snape walked to the door and carefully checked the corridor outside.

"Wormtail likes to listen in on my most private conversations," he explained, when Bellatrix questioned him with her eyes. He sat himself down opposite her. "Why are you here?" he asked, his tone no warmer than the tendrils of mist outside. "You seem sadly the worse for the wear." She drew the time turner out from under the blanket and threw it to him.

"I'm from a time to come."

"A time which does not seem to favour you," he observed mockingly, turning the hourglass contemplatively in his fingers. She swallowed her angry retort, painfully aware of his wand, which he held loosely in his hand.

"A future which you can avert," she said softly. "If you will. Please. I am begging you to." Snape snorted.

"And what could I possibly have done to drag you so low as to beg for my help?" he laughed.

"You know that Harry Potter is the Dark Lord's seventh Horcrux," she said quietly. Instantly he fell silent, and lifted his wand higher. She sighed. "I don't know how you know. I don't care. But you must not tell Voldemort." Snape rolled his head to the side warily.

"Why not? To prevent your humiliation? That seems insufficient reason." Bellatrix wanted to strangle him, and tear his infuriating smile off his face.

"It's not just me!" she snapped. "Narcissa was hurt too! And Rudolphus!" Snape rolled a smile along his cold mouth.

"And for these few I am to lose the chance to win great favour with the Dark Lord? He would reward me greatly for this information." Despair sank through Bellatrix Lestrange. Without a wand she had no way to make him do what she wanted, and instead had to rely on the power of persuasion. And it wasn't working. "I have no proof you are from the future," Snape continued. "This could be a trick. A low attempt to steal my information or even an attempt to make me appear to betray the Dark Lord. I won't be fooled."

"He'll hurt Harry!" Bellatrix Black shouted on an impulse. Snape raised his head.

"And why would you care?" he said softly. Lady Black lowered her head, and the tears crept from her eyes to slide down her icy cheeks, the hot trails gliding over the tip of her nose.

"He is everything to me," she whispered. "I was cursed this way. An attempt by Voldemort to keep his Horcrux safe. But it didn't work. It'll never work. And now Harry is in grave danger." She didn't mention that the person she most feared would kill him was himself. Snape regarded her for a long time without a word. Eventually he spoke.

"I shall consider what you have said," he told her. "Beyond that I can make no promises." She gulped and nodded. They were both silent for a little while more, and then she plucked up the courage to ask her next question.

"What's the date today?" Snape told her, and she leapt up, startled, throwing the blanket aside.

"But I am visiting you today! With Narcissa. Perhaps at any minute!" She ran forward and grabbed his hands, fighting her revulsion at kneeling before him. "Please! If we do come; I mean, if Narcissa and my past self come, then believe me! You must promise that you will not tell, if we come. Swear it!" Snape's black eyes regarded her impassively for a minute, and then he said quietly, "I swear it."

Bellatrix nearly ran out of the house, fear hammering in her heart. She could not bear to meet her past self; nor was she strong enough to answer questions or make up lies. Instead she raced away, down the streets, back towards the river. Clambering up the bank, she viewed the cold, winding grey ribbon of water with relief. A fox rooted nearby for scraps in a torn bin bag. Bellatrix had not escaped a minute too soon either, for barely had she mounted the bank when she heard the unmistakable bangs of two witches apparating into the area, beside the river, one after the other.

"Wait!" her own voice cried, although she had not opened her mouth. She slithered along the bank towards the street, to stay out of sight, hugging the ground, and her movement startled the fox which leapt nervously from her, along the bank. She heard a killing curse shouted, and then her past self spoke again. "Just a fox. I thought perhaps an Auror – Cissy wait!"

A scrabbling sound, as Narcissa clambered up the bank, and then the arguing of the two sisters. Bellatrix Black crouched behind a bin on the other side of the railings topping the embankment, and watched as first the blonde witch and then her unmistakeable self mounted the bank and set off back to Spindle's End.

"He lives here?" the past Bellatrix spat contemptuously. "_Here? _In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to…" She broke off as Narcissa Malfoy trotted ahead like a fretful colt, long legged and wobbly. "Cissy wait!"

Bellatrix Black didn't bother following them. They turned into the labyrinth of dark streets, with the ruinous chimney looming over them, and she went and stood on the top of the bank. The cold air caught in the back of her throat as she examined the dead fox down by the gently pulsating river. Amazing, how a single flash of light could so swiftly rob a living creature of something so important. They'd be nearing Snape's house now. Harry would be happier, wouldn't he, with his friends? Even if Voldemort did kill him eventually. Would Snape keep his word? She'd used killing curses so often, without fully considering the destructive power she wielded. There was something rather terrible about that. To kill without understanding the significance of it. Perhaps Snape would be opening the door now.

Bellatrix Black's breath caught in her chest, and she gasped as a strange icy feeling spread through her. The frosty breeze which had restrained itself to teasing her hair now bit at her finger tips, her shoulders, her nose. The cold was combated by a warm feeling of incredible bliss which feathered its way through her. Snape would keep his word then. Bellatrix Lestrange would stay with Rudolphus. Harry would stay with his friends. And Bellatrix Black would rest in peace.

She gave herself up to the wind, and allowed it to dissolve her, carrying her away, up to the misty heights.

* * *

_"NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!" … Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter…and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered, and became a snarl… both women were fighting to kill…"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix taunted…curse…hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix's…eyes seemed to bulge: for the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed._

And the mother that never was died in humiliation and anguish.


End file.
